Time to Board
We were watching an old Audrey Hepburn film when our son walked in and said that Carly was sick and had been taken to the hospital. Just a few days prior, he had been dancing with her at their school dance. Now, her fight against a sudden onslaught of the flu had taken her to the ER. We grabbed the kids and took off, but by the time we arrived she had died. That was a hard day — actually, a hard year, or more — for our thirteen-year-old son, for the school, and for Carly’s family. A few days prior to her memorial service, Kameron began plucking out a few chords on the guitar, trying to put a melody to a poem that his friend had written. Kimberly heard what he was doing, took his basic chord structure and wrote the music. At the service, our son Kyle played the piano and our daughter Karin, along with a group of friends, sang Kimberly’s composition.
For many years the song sat untouched. But it was always in the back of our minds. We felt that the melody, but especially the counterpoint and harmony, were so compelling that it deserved another look. So, during a recent winter vacation, Kurt wrote new lyrics. Since the song was born during a remembrance of death, it seemed appropriate to continue that theme. The title of the song refers to the final call that comes for all of us. For the person in the song (I cannot help but think of a grandpa struggling to board the train), he has no choice but to answer that call. We hope that this song will bring comfort as you consider that our only hope in life and death comes from the Bright Morning Star, Jesus Christ.
Time to board, it’s time to go;
A ticket I can’t afford.
Hear the train, her whistle blows.
Conductor calls out all aboard.
Need some help to take my seat
Or I will turn back in defeat.
Time to board, it’s time to go—
Leave behind pain and sorrow.
Some think that I’ll be alone,
But when I arrive I’ll be home.
Empty hands weighed down by care;
Porter helps me find my way.
Out the window, unaware.
I have regrets; I can’t repay!
I look back to say good-bye.
Some return the wave; some pass by.
Train pulls out through misty gray.
No ticket—I don’t belong.
As we push on straightaway,
Conductor smiles; nods come along.
Cross the river, past the storm –
Bright and Morning Star, safe and warm.